The Song, The Heart

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The Song, The Heart Page 7

by Jade Winters


  ‘Ugh, get off me,’ Skye grumbled, as the pounding in her head returned full force. ‘How in the world do I get rid of this headache?’

  ‘Breakfast. That’s how,’ Izzy answered cheerfully. ‘Now go get dressed.’

  Izzy leapt from the bed as Skye groggily hoisted herself upright.

  Trying her best to look and feel human, Skye quickly showered and headed downstairs for breakfast at the hotel. She perked up as caffeine coursed through her veins, relieving her hangover symptoms.

  ‘So,’ Izzy began as she cleaned up the egg yolk with a piece of bread, ‘what are you wearing tonight?’

  ‘Oh,’ Skye said, caught off guard. ‘I didn’t even think of it. I suppose it’ll have to be my one and only black dress.’

  ‘Very nice.’ Izzy grinned. ‘I’m sure Morgan will be impressed.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ Skye drank the last dregs of her coffee. ‘Anyway, I’d better call my dad before we set off sightseeing.’

  ‘Great, send my love, not,’ Izzy said.

  Skye walked into the hotel foyer and took her phone from her pocket with the nerve of King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone. Her stomach churned as the phone rang once, twice—

  ‘Hello?’ Oliver answered.

  ‘Hi,’ Skye said shakily. ‘How are things, Dad?’

  Silence.

  ‘I’m going to the Tate today,’ she continued. ‘And then—’

  A long sigh on the other end of the line cut her short. ‘When are you coming home?’

  ‘Dad, aren’t you even going to ask if I’m alright?’ She paused. ‘If I’m safe?’

  ‘You’re not a child, Skye. You don’t need looking after.’

  The weight of his words nearly floored her. She opened her mouth to tell him that same scenario stood for him as well, that she wasn’t his mother or carer, but the words stuck in her throat. In the end, she bit her tongue and held it all in.

  ‘I told you when I’ll be back. There’s even a note on the fridge door.’

  ‘Dunno what you’re talking about.’

  That he hadn’t seen the note meant he hadn’t heated up the food she had left for him. She closed her eyes, seeing him in her mind’s eye thinner than when she’d left. ‘I’ll be back—’

  ‘When you’re back,’ he said curtly. ‘Don’t bother phoning again pretending you care. ’Cause if you did, you wouldn’t have left in the first place.’

  The line went dead. Skye removed the phone from her ear and stared down at it.

  A shocking thought rippled through her mind: That man is such a selfish arsehole.

  For the first time in years, his words hadn’t struck at her heart the way they normally did. Determined not to let him ruin her trip, she switched her phone off. It was time for Skye to follow Izzy’s advice and start thinking about herself for once. And there’s no time better than the present.

  Chapter Twelve

  It’s not a date. It’s a business meeting. Morgan desperately tried to convince herself she hadn’t asked Skye to dinner because she was attracted to her. A romance was the last thing she needed. So why am I looking forward to spending the evening with her?

  Morgan had been asking herself the same question since she’d started getting dressed. It wasn’t just because Skye was beautiful—she wasn’t that shallow.

  Maybe it’s her innocence that draws me to her. And her eyes, she finally admitted to herself. She loved the wonder in them. The look told her that Skye had led a sheltered life, that she hadn’t been exposed to the raw, ugly side of life that Morgan had been forced to see. I hope she keeps her rose-tinted glasses on forever.

  Leaning closer to the mirror, Morgan applied lip gloss to her lips and took a moment to study herself. She thought of what Daniel had said about people who couldn’t let go. Had he inadvertently been talking about her? She ran the tip of her finger over the silver cross visible through her open-necked shirt. Was she one of those people who carried the past on their shoulders like a trophy? In truth, with the overwhelming sadness she felt on a daily basis, it certainly seemed like it. The problem was that Morgan didn’t know how to let go. Nothing in her life skills had prepared her for the loss of the two people she held most dear.

  Well, three, she corrected. After the court case, her sister, April, had moved across the world to live in Australia. They hadn’t spoken since. Morgan assumed it was easier for April not to have constant reminders, so she had respected her wishes. April knew where she was if she needed her.

  Morgan stopped by the wardrobe on her way out and slipped into a long leather coat. Minutes later, warmly seated in the back of the cab, her thoughts turned to Skye and the evening ahead. She hadn’t been lying when she’d complimented Skye on her voice, and she hadn’t been doing her a favour either by offering her a chance to sing at her club. First and foremost, Morgan was a businesswoman. When she saw an opportunity to build her business, she grabbed it with both hands.

  As the taxi drew up outside Harrington’s, she saw Skye and her friend approaching.

  ‘I’m just picking someone up, can you take me on to Park Lane?’ Morgan asked the taxi driver as she stepped out onto the pavement.

  ‘As long as you’re paying, you can go to the moon and back, love.’

  Morgan waved her hand in the air, catching Skye’s attention. Skye gave her friend a peck on the cheek and hurried towards her with a big grin. If she had dressed to impress, she’d hit the bull’s eye. The figure-hugging, black, halter-neck dress she wore made her look more stunning than Morgan remembered. Skye was oblivious to the stares she was getting from passersby. Morgan couldn’t help but smile. She really didn’t know the effect she had on the world. With her voice or her looks.

  ‘Are we going by taxi?’ Skye asked. ‘I wouldn’t have minded the bus, you know.’

  Morgan let her climb in first then followed. She almost told her she hadn’t travelled on public transport for nearly ten years but decided against it in case it made her look like a snob. ‘It’s only around the corner.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ Skye said as she fell unceremoniously onto the hard leather seat and put her seat belt on.

  ‘So how was your head this morning? Morgan asked as the taxi sped down the road.

  ‘Oh my, don’t even ask. How on earth do people make a regular habit of drinking?’

  Morgan gave a wry smile. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘So you’re not a social drinker then?’

  ‘Nope. I’m not too keen on mind-altering substances.’ The words popped out before she could stop them. Morgan cursed herself, hating the stiffness she’d heard in her voice.

  Great, now I look like a right old bore. Great move.

  Skye gripped Morgan’s knee as the taxi swerved around a cyclist.

  ‘Oops, sorry,’ Skye said, turning to look at her.

  Morgan took a sharp intake of breath when their eyes met. Something passed between them. Shaken, she fought the urge to cover Skye’s hand with her own. ‘Don’t be.’

  Morgan’s words hung in the air between them until Skye removed her hand and rested it on her own lap. The ten-minute journey was finished in silence. They alighted from the cab and walked side by side to the restaurant, both stumbling through their strained conversation as they searched for the courage to speak on a topic other than the weather. As they settled at a table by a window overlooking a small courtyard in the elegant restaurant, the strained atmosphere lightened.

  ‘This place is beautiful,’ Skye said, marvelling at the sleek restaurant’s décor. Rococo arches divided the room giving it a cosy yet refined feel. Elegant chandeliers hung from the ornate high ceiling. ‘And the food smells delicious.’

  A waiter, dressed in black trousers and a crisp white shirt, stopped by their table, flashed them both a smile then handed them a menu each. ‘What will you be drinking this evening?’

  ‘I’ll have a Coke, please,’ Skye said.

  ‘A latte for me, please,’ Morgan added.

  ‘Ce
rtainly,’ the waiter said and discreetly moved away from the table.

  ‘So,’ Morgan started. Her eyes were drawn to the silver musical note pedant resting against Skye’s chest then automatically dropped lower to her cleavage and the soft curves of her breasts. She found herself awash with a tingling sensation. Startled by this reaction, her eyes shot up to Skye’s face. ‘I hope you’re not drinking Coke because of what I said.’

  Skye shook her head and grinned. ‘Not at all. To be honest, I don’t think my body could handle another dose of poison even if I wanted it to.’

  ‘Well, the food will almost certainly make up for it,’ Morgan said. She looked around the room thoughtfully as happy memories from the past filled her mind. ‘Every time my mother saved up a little extra money, she’d bring me and my siblings here.’

  ‘Nice treat,’ Skye said. ‘The most I got was a cheeseburger from McDonald’s and, if I was really lucky, an apple pie.’

  ‘Are you an only child?’

  Skye nodded.

  ‘I’ve always wondered what that would be like,’ Morgan admitted. ‘Was it lonely growing up?’

  ‘Not really. I didn’t know any different. How about you? How many siblings do you have?’

  ‘A brother and … a sister.’

  Skye glanced at the menu. ‘Are you all close?’

  ‘We used to be. Well, I still am with my brother.’

  ‘Did you have a falling out with your sister because she stole your clothes or make-up?’ Skye said, laughing.

  Should she tell her the truth? Once it was out in the open, they could move on with the evening without any tension in the air. She didn't have to go into great detail—just enough to give her an overall picture.

  Not giving herself any more time to think, Morgan said, ‘No, her daughter died.’

  The smile faded from Skye’s face. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—’

  ‘Don’t apologise. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.’ She averted her eyes to an elderly couple sat in silence a few tables away. ‘It’s been on my mind a lot lately.’

  ‘How awful for your family.’

  ‘It was.’ Morgan shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Well, still is, really.’

  ‘When children die from an illness, it must seem so futile.’

  ‘She wasn’t ill.’

  ‘Oh, I really am sorry. I just assumed—’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Relief flooded through her when she caught sight of the waiter heading towards them. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to start the evening, by having a conversation with dark undertones, but Skye’s sympathetic nature made her want to talk about things she normally kept locked deep inside her mind.

  The waiter placed the drinks on their table. ‘Here’re your drinks, ladies. How are you two doing over here? Are you ready to order food yet?’

  The women scanned the menu and each ordered duck a l’orange.

  Morgan watched as Skye drank her Coke with her eyes closed. ‘You look like you’re really enjoying that.’

  Skye’s eyes opened and her cheeks suffused with colour. ‘I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m addicted to the stuff.’

  Morgan unconsciously made a face at her choice of words. Skye must have sensed something was amiss, because her smile wilted.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Skye enquired with a frown.

  ‘No.’ Morgan’s gaze dropped to her cup as she emptied two sugars into her coffee and stirred. How could she explain to a person she barely knew how just hearing the word ‘addict’ gnawed at her insides? She raised her head and caught Skye looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. If she’s going to work for me, it’ll only be a matter of time before she finds out about the skeletons in my cupboard.

  ‘I know you were joking. I just … well …’ Morgan stuttered. Then she blurted, ‘You don’t do drugs, do you?’

  ‘What? No,’ Skye said in a quiet but serious voice. ‘I’ve not touched them personally, and I never will. Why’d you ask?’

  ‘It’s just that …’

  How could she explain without coming off sounding like a self-righteous judgemental arsehole? Backed into a corner, Morgan had to say something, so she opted for the truth.

  ‘I have a zero tolerance—’ Morgan’s eyes narrowed and her tone grew colder with each word. ‘No, I’d go as far as saying that I hate drug addicts. Every last one of them.’

  Skye looked taken aback. ‘You don’t strike me as the type who would associate with that kind of crowd.’

  ‘I don’t. My mum was dating a guy who, unbeknownst to her at the time, was peddling heroin. I don’t know how it happened, but it wasn’t long before she became one of his “customers”.’ Morgan stopped abruptly, wondering if she had said too much.

  ‘Is she still using?’ Skye asked.

  ‘Unless heroin is available on the other side, I very much doubt it.’

  Skye placed her hand on top of Morgan’s and gently stroked her thumb with her own, looking at her with sympathy. The anxiety in her stomach was so familiar, Morgan barely noticed it.

  Skye's voice was soft and sincere when she asked, ‘Did she OD?’

  The question rolled around in her mindfor a few seconds before she finally gave a small nod.

  ‘It wasn’t that straightforward, though.’ Morgan cleared her throat of the emotions residing there, then said, ‘Her boyfriend was responsible for my niece’s death.’

  Skye’s free hand flew to cover her mouth. ‘Oh my God, Morgan, that’s awful.’

  ‘What’s awful is telling you my life story within the first five minutes of sitting down.’ Morgan couldn’t believe she was opening up to someone she had just met. ‘Trust me, I’m not normally full of doom and gloom.’

  Skye gave her an understanding smile. ‘It’s okay. We’ve all got our baggage.’

  Morgan regarded her for a few moments before she spoke. ‘I find it difficult to believe you’ve got any.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You look like the poster girl for a life well lived. Anyway, let’s get on to a more positive topic.’ She took a mouthful of coffee and swallowed. ‘Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?’

  ‘Wiltshire, born and bred.’ Skye’s expression was bemused as she leant forward and said in a hushed voice, ‘Can you keep a secret?’

  Morgan met her halfway, raised her eyebrows and whispered, ‘Definitely. Do you work for MI5?’

  She shook her head. ‘This is the first time I’ve left my home town,’ Skye said sheepishly.

  Morgan could barely control her gasp of surprise. ‘What, ever?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘But why? You don’t have kids or—’ The words stuck in her throat. ‘—a partner?’ She hadn’t even considered this before. I’m such a fool. How could someone as gorgeous as Skye be single?

  Skye smiled, the faintest of dimples showing in her cheeks. ‘Oh no. Nothing like that.’

  Morgan leant back in her seat with a sense of relief. ‘Well whatever’s keeping you there, I hope it’s worth it.’

  Skye remained silent and traced the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger.

  Morgan continued. ‘I’ve never been to Wiltshire before.’

  ‘Oh you must. Whenever you need a break from the fast-paced way of life here, you should drop by. Clean air. Long scenic walks. Cosy nights in the local bar in front of a roaring fire …’

  Her voice trailed off, leaving Morgan to fill in the blanks for herself. She could envisage the scene and liked the sound of it, very much, especially if it were with Skye. ‘I might just take you up on that offer.’

  ‘I hope you do.’ Skye grinned suggestively. ‘I really do.’

  As they stared at each other, it was almost comical how fast Morgan’s heart hammered against her chest. She was surprised the organ could handle the pressure. The time had come to move the subject on to a more neutral subject—fast.

  ‘Have you thought anymore about my job offer?’ Skye’s strained expression
gave Morgan the answer, but she still asked for confirmation. ‘Am I right in thinking you’re turning down the job?

  ‘Yes’

  Morgan didn’t hide her disappointment. ‘Do you mind me asking why?’

  Skye shrugged. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘What’s complicated about pursuing what you do best? I thought someone with a voice like yours would have jumped at the chance of fronting a band.’

  ‘I would if it wasn’t for—’ She stopped and bit her lower lip.

  What’s this woman hiding that’s so bad she won’t tell me?

  ‘It’s okay, I’m being a little too pushy here. You’ve got your reasons and that’s good enough.’

  ‘If things were different, you couldn’t stop me.’ She gave a slight shrug and shifted in her seat. ‘But they aren’t. So there’s no point in wanting something I can’t have.’

  Morgan leant forward and held Skye’s gaze. ‘If you knew beforehand you wouldn’t take the job, why did you agree to meet?’

  ‘Because I wanted to see you again.’ She challenged her teasingly. ‘Was that a bad thing to do?’

  Morgan smiled and couldn’t help but notice the tingle of excitement in response to Skye flirting. So much for this just being a business meeting.

  ‘Not at all. I’m glad you did.’

  ‘You are?’ Skye said, sitting erect in her seat, eyes wide and bright.

  Morgan nodded and, without thinking, said, ‘It would normally take wild horses to drag me away from my club, even for a few hours, so I’m thankful for the break.’

  After a few seconds, she realised the response wasn’t the one Skye had been hoping for. She could have kicked herself when Skye slumped back in her seat, her face despondent. The smouldering flame had been doused before it’d had a chance to grow. With the moment gone, Morgan scrambled to keep the conversation going. ‘So what do you do for a living?’

  Skye’s face perked up. ‘I work as a waitress in a restaurant called Peppermills. It’s an average kind of place—nothing special—but I love the people I work with. We’re like a close-knit family. Well, most of the time anyway.’

  ‘Hobbies?’ Morgan asked.

  Skye laughed. ‘Well, if you call singing in front of the bathroom mirror a hobby, that’s the only one.’

 

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